


Valerian Reflected - Right Side of the Mirror

by abcdefghiluvyou



Series: Valerian Reflected - Two Sides of the Mirror [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Battle Fleet Commander Mark Lee, Beautiful Lee Donghyuck, Donghyuck is no one's possession lol, Flower Maiden Donghyuck, He's in love but he's also not too nice about it, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Slight Villain Mark Lee, Space AU, This is the RIGHT side of the Mirror of this Au, Watch out for him though, he wishes tho lol, ideas of dubconish nature in passing thoughts, mentioned slavery, mentions of blasphemy, mentions of blood and injury, possessive mark lee, this is darkish but not DARK, this version of the Au dips toes into:, yeah i know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28719462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcdefghiluvyou/pseuds/abcdefghiluvyou
Summary: The invasion of Calla, the Federation's most beautiful garden in the known universe, has been planned for decades.Mark, Alder's elite Battle Commander, who is sent to lead the reaping makes sure to pluck the most exquisite of all flowers,The Heart of Calla, Lee Donghyuck, for himself.But, even the loveliest of flowers can be deadly, and Donghyuck's bouquet of roses comes not only with the sharpest thorns to hurt, but also with the most poisonous scent to drown Mark in.[This is the RIGHT Side of the Mirror, the Au version with villain Mark. LEFT Side is a mirrored world with hero Mark Lee c: ]
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: Valerian Reflected - Two Sides of the Mirror [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105385
Comments: 48
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

This AU is originally a twitter fic that i upload in a thread with pictures and quotes c:

  
I'm a bit sad that I can't do that here, but let me share with you this beautiful fanart that [nanossun](https://twitter.com/nanossun) drew for this AU:

• You can find the original tweet with the fanart [(here)](https://twitter.com/nanossun/status/1342762473473118208) 🌸

• You can also find the original Twitter Fic-thread of Valerian Reflected (Right Side of the Mirror) [(here)](https://twitter.com/abcdefghiluvyou/status/1328534598775689217) c:

* * *

They say the sky over Calla is blue, the exact same as on Earth before the wars, before the pollution, before the atmosphere changed so much that it turned the air into a brownish grey instead. 

Mark, by now too used to the sight of countless planets with skies of spectacular beauty, is mostly unfazed when they enter Calla’s orbit, eyes on the screen, body motionless while his commandeering deck breaks out in loud chatter. 

He doesn’t mind it, let’s them gaze through the view screen and talk about those hues of cobalt blue and azure and cerulean and cyan for the short moment they’re waiting for the rest of the fleet to arrive. 

His own eyes are locked on the scans of his screen, making sure his soldiers are in formation, all carrier ships in line, vipers and drones at the ready. 

Next to him, his first officer, Na Jaemin, shifts, and that’s what makes Mark lift his eyes for a quick glance at him. 

“What?” He asks when Jaemin smiles at him, cold and amused as usual. 

“It’s a shame,” he says, and Mark knows that the only real shame between them is that he doesn’t have to ask‘what is?’to know what Jaemin means. They know each other too well for that. 

Still, Jaemin juts out his chin in the direction of the view screen, and Mark’s eyes glance to the front before he lets his gaze drop back to his scans. All the ships fed back to the system, leaving him to shut his screen and turn to face Jaemin with a sigh. 

He does him the favor. 

“What is?” he asks, his own lips twitching into a smile when the one on Jaemin widens. 

“That pretty blue sky. It’s gonna turn red today.” 

He’s grinning as he says that, not feeling sorry at all - a feeling Mark wholeheartedly reciprocates. 

Still, as the battle commander and first officer, they’re expected to show at least a little interest in anything remotely associative with Earth, and so they both look out at Calla’s blue sky and nod twice, even though they both couldn’t care less. 

Born and raised on Alder, the Federation’s biggest military station, both are used to the endless darkness of space, Earth just a patriotic concept to both of them. 

“Ready to face your sweetheart’s wrath?” Jaemin asks when Mark gives the order to open a fleet-wide channel. 

“And you?” he mutters back, just before coms blinks, all the noises on the commandeering deck quieting down as to not disturb the commander when he speaks. 

Jaemin doesn’t reply, can’t, really, not when Mark opens his mouth to start his speech. But when Mark finishes and turns down coms to give the command to attack, he reaches out, just once, just for a moment, and tightens his fingers around Mark’s, his touch cold as ice. 

  
  


-

  
  


Calla’s sky is in flames, and Mark thinks that it looks just as beautiful in red as it did in blue. 

Around him the planet’s capital lies in ruins and the citizens of the inner circles join the countless captured and subdued from the surrounding villages. 

The capital of Calla, called Calla just like the planet simply because there isn’t much more on it than that, is built after primitive images of the sun. The city is a giant circle, the outer rings thick in diameter, thinning out the nearer they are to the most inner circle, the center of the capital. 

It’s 22 rings in total, Mark knows, the 23rd not counting, because it’s called The Heart of Calla, the most sacred sphere where the flowers of the deities grow under the delicate care of the temple maidens. 

“Make sure to mark them all,” Jaemin yells at the soldiers dragging the last of the 22nd ring citizens to the grand plaza in front of the gates leading to the center of the capital. “They’re the purest and most valuable. Most beautiful, too. Make sure you separate them from the peasants of the outer rings!”

“The most beautiful, huh,” Mark tuts where he stands and observes, mood playful now that the invasion went smoothly, not a single soldier killed, though it was to be expected. 

Calla, as beautiful as it is, and as much as it resembles Earth, is nothing but an underdeveloped agrarian clump of dirt floating in space, the Federations flower garden, really, a planet as small as a moon with only a single continent of forests and fields floating in its ocean. 

Despite the grand fleet Mark took with him for the invasion, no one really expected Calla to fight. 

Calladians are known to be harmless and peaceful after all, the most gentle species in the Federation honestly, simple creatures that live in close touch with nature and pray to their flower and plant deities. They’re the most beautiful species known to mankind, too, and that’s exactly why Mark is here – and what justifies the huge fleet he brings with him. 

The orders from Earth are clear, a quick repeat invasion of the planet like 60 years ago before Calla was made a member of the Federation. Mark commands his fleet in, takes most of what was cultivated carefully in the years the planet was allowed its fake sense of security, and then he’s to bring the goods to Earth, ship the Calladians off into slavery in the name of the Federation, nice and easy. 

And it goes exactly like that, no resistance whatsoever, the Calladians mostly scared and confused, most of them quieting down in relief upon seeing the emblem on Mark’s chest and recognizing an alley – not yet realizing how they were fooled for years. Even dragged out of their houses and off the streets by their hair they go quietly, only a few confused shouts here and there, but other than that… nothing. 

It’s almost boring, Mark thinks. Then his dark eyes rest on the closed gates leading to the heart of Calla and he smiles. 

“The most beautiful until _now_ ,” Jaemin snaps at him, his carefree voice pulling Mark out of his musings. 

Jaemin is grinning when he looks, all teeth and unholy gleam in his eyes, a crude laugh pulling from his throat when one of the soldiers by the ancient gate spits in rage at its unmoving heaviness and takes out his dick to piss on the sacred statues left and right from it. 

Mark can hear the gasps and screams of the Calladians behind him, their confused voices finally turning into angry shouts, making him smile, too, and look forward to what he’ll find behind the gate.

For a second he wonders what kind of face the favorites of Calla, the few handpicked to live in the sacred 23rd ring, are making. With their sky in flames and their holy relics doused in piss they must be hiding in their temples, their precious flowers, the mortal bodies of their deities, clutched to their chests, their beautiful faces wet with tears. 

There is one face in particular, with half lidded eyes, half open lips, and skin, soft as velvet and dusted with freckles and moles that remind Mark of the stars at night, that flashes through his mind. It’s been a while since he last saw that face, and he can’t wait to look into those eyes again, can’t wait to get his hands on the real prize of this mission, the one reason he looked forward to this day so much, spent so many months preparing for it so eagerly. 

“Ready?” Jaemin asks again, but it’s a smirk this time, not a smile on his face, and Mark knows that his first officer, his best friend, is feeling the exact same kind of excitement as he does, Jaemin’s prize, too, hiding in one of the temples of the flower gods. 

“Open the goddamn gate,” he shouts to the soldiers by the gate, clacking his tongue when they don’t get the job done. “Incompetence,” he mutters at Mark, hands reaching for the gun by his hip. 

“Out of the way,” Mark only sighs as he watches him, uncaring if his men hear him or not. 

Thankfully there are no casualties when Jaemin shoots down the gate, though one man, maybe the same that pissed on the relics, soiled his pants, Mark notes when he jumps over what’s left of the ancient gate and enters the 23rd ring. 

  
  


-

  
  


Behind the gate are six temples, five bigger round structures surrounding the smallest, most precious one in the center. 

Mark has never been here before, but he knows that that’s where he has to go while Jaemin turns right to walk to the temple closest to them. 

Huang Renjun, the one Jaemin is here for, is the representative of the calla lilies, arguably the most important of all flower temples on Calla, because of the name. Mark isn’t too sure honestly, Calla’s spiritual structure not really known to outsiders, but Renjun’s temple is the most opulent and the only one in pure white. 

It matches the robes Mark saw him wear at the most recent annual conference that the Federation held. _Pretty delicate Renjun in his pretty delicate veils_ – the boy that turned a head or two among all the planetary representatives and attending human military. 

One of the officers in attendance had been Jaemin, and Mark is sure that the decision to make Renjun his had been made the same second Mark’s eyes had found his own pick. 

They had been given the order to return back to their fleet and prepare for the invasion of Calla that same night. 

“How fitting“, General Kim had said when Mark and Jaemin had reported back to headquarters. “Calla’s spiritual heart for our battle Commander, and his representative for your First Officer.“

And yeah, it must have looked kind of fitting, ironic even in Mark’s case, but no one other than the General had been surprised by Mark's choice. 

His pick had always been obvious to anyone who knew him even the slightest bit. It had always been the heart of Calla, right from the start, honestly, when he had been assigned and authorized to learn everything about the planet. 

From his first official visit, still years from the day of the scheduled invasion, Mark had found, had wanted, had barely concealed and then carefully crafted a plan to reach out for his pick and make him his, long before the Federation gave command that it was time to reap Calla. 

“Mark,“ Jaemin’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. 

There is worry in his eyes, fleeting, because he knows what Mark is capable of, but still there until he blinks it away, because he can’t be with Mark in a critical situation. 

“Be careful,“ he mutters, low enough that his words stay between the two of them. He reaches out, his cold fingers gripping around Mark’s for a second, the same way he did on the commandeering deck. He waits for Mark to nod, and only then turns and walks to Renjun’s temple, hands reaching down to pull out his gun again, aim calm. 

Mark waits for Jaemin to disappear from his sight before he turns and moves to the smallest temple in the center of the other five surrounding it. Jaemin’s words in his mind, he rests his hand on his holster, because his First Officer is right. 

From now on everything is unpredictable and possible.

As sweet and harmless as all Calladians are - the one Mark is here for isn’t, the spiritual heart of Calla truly one of a kind, capable of rage and hate and violence. 

_That’s why I love him_ , Mark thinks with a grin, hands tightening around his gun as he soundlessly slips through the veils hanging from the entrance to the most sacred core of Calla. 

  
  


-

  
  


Inside, the shouts and noises from the invasion fall back, a dome of serene quietness settling over Mark, covering him entirely as he makes his way through the countless veils floating in the cool breeze of the temple.

His prize, he knows, will be in the center of the dome, motionless in front of the flowerbed altar dedicated to all five flower deities of Calla.

Mark finds him exactly there, kneeling in front of his deities, looking small and delicate in his half translucent robes, absolutely beautiful and ethereal - _breathtaking_ \- in the way his body is bathed in a single golden sun ray falling to the center of the temple from the stained glass dome above. 

By law all species that are part of the Federation must be registered under human names in case they ever enter Earth, but the Calladian name of The Heart of Calla, _Haechan_ , has never been as fitting as in this one moment. 

He really looks like the sun that his kind worships so much, his illuminated body shining in a gentle golden glow, the light reflecting on the fully bloomed flowers on the altar. Their scent, otherworldly sweet and intense, floats through the temple like a prayer, and Mark breathes the heavy perfume in, goosebumps rising on his skin at the familiarity of it.

He smelled that scent before, collected it on his tongue as he trailed his lips over velvet skin that tasted like a flower garden. 

Mark lowers his gun as he leans against one of the stone pillars surrounding the inner dome, content to watch from the shadows for now. His dark eyes drink in the way The Heart of Calla is bowed in prayer, hands clasped together tightly as his lips move soundlessly. 

He looks holy and untouchable, pure and untaintable, though the thought makes Mark smile to himself, hands on his gun twitching.

For a long while nothing happens. It’s as if time slowed down inside the deities’ home, the chaos outside deflecting off the temple walls, nothing able to penetrate the silence of the dome. Then a sharp scream from outside pierces through the air, making the boy in prayer flinch out of his trance, body jumping in fright at the way it sounds so close, so utterly filled with terror and pain. 

The Heart of Calla freezes, eyes wide open as he turns his body around, hands shaking when they lower from their tightly clasped prayer position. A look of terror flashes over his delicate features, mouth dropping half open to reveal trembling lips. 

Mark watches the boy shake in fear for only a moment longer before he tightens his hands around his gun and soundlessly pushes off the pillar he was leaning against, making his presence known as he steps into the light. 

The Heart of Calla sees him moving from the corner of his eyes, and Mark isn’t surprised when the boy almost jumps in shock, whole body flinching off balance and making him tip over, falling backwards into the golden light with a gasp as he snaps his head around to stare at Mark. 

A cry of Mark’s name leaves his lips to echo off the walls before he hits the temple ground. Mark is by his side by the time he pushes himself up into a kneeling position again.

“Mark,“ The Heart of Calla gasps, eyes big and round and full of disbelief as he stares up at him. “You’re… _you’re here_ – but–“

_Ah_ , Mark thinks, hands on his gun twitching as he stares down at the beautiful boy in front of him. The fall made most of the half translucent robes slip off the boy’s torso, layers of veil hanging off his small frame and pooling in the dips of his waist, allowing Mark’s eyes to drink in flawless golden skin and dusty pink nipples, hardened from the chill of the cold temple air. 

Mark’s mouth runs dry without him being able to help it, but his hands around his gun are calm, even though the rest of his body reacts out of his control. It falls prey to what his mind refuses to give in to, because it’s something that he was aware would happen as soon as he entered the temple and found The Heart of Calla in the exact position by the altar as he predicted.

_Too easy_ , Mark thinks, but he can’t help but smile when the boy in front of him tries to push himself up to stand only to fall back on his knees with a whimper. 

_Ah_ , Mark thinks again, smile widening. _An open display of weakness, his beautiful little flower, helpless and afraid_. 

He’s almost endeared when the boy squeezes his eyes shut in masterfully displayed distress, only to dart a quick glance at Mark’s gun when he thinks that Mark doesn’t see.

Mark is too good to fall for it, has planted this pretense weakness of his, _to protect what he claims as his_ , for months in the boy, and finds it interesting to see it used against him so early in the game. It’s not going to work, but the boy doesn’t know that, his big eyes filling with tears as he starts sobbing Mark’s name quietly, petal pink mouth trembling as he cries. 

Mark does him the favor the way he always does when he sees through other people only to play along for a moment.

“ _Donghyuckah_ ,“ he sighs, using The Heart of Calla’s human name as always, smile widening when Donghyuck hiccups prettily. 

Mark’s voice is gentle, expression on his face betraying nothing when he takes another step closer, carefully crouching down. His gun, though, stays in his hands, aim steady, exterior calm. He knows that the moment he lowers it, Donghyuck will attempt to kill him.

“M– Mark,“ the boy whispers, tears dripping delicately from his wet lashes, eyes widening as he stares at the gun in his face. “Mark, _please–_ “

_Yeah_ , Mark thinks, _You’ll be begging. But not like this, not right now._

“Aren’t you the prettiest today,“ he says, smile widening when Donghyuck startles and pauses in his pleas. 

Mark watches various emotions flicker on the boy’s face, the most intense one being murderous rage. Only for a split second of course, before it smoothes over into something harmless, but Mark knows what kind of intent is hiding behind it now, and it delights him, because his words are an open provocation.

_Aren’t you the prettiest today_ – the words he always tells Donghyuck whenever they meet. He uttered them a thousand times for him already, sometimes loudly and full of honest intent, then whispered quietly like a secret prayer in the intimacy of a shared night. He murmured them into Donghyuck’s ear whenever they managed to slip off undetected, and he carved them into Donghyuck’s palms with the tip of his fingers whenever they stood quietly next to each other during official meetings. 

Saying the words now, in the middle of an invasion in which Mark came to get him, Donghyuck knows exactly what it means.

_Yeah_ , Mark thinks as he watches Donghyuck understand. The pain on the boy’s face comes gradually, in multifaceted layers. _Yeah, I planned this. All the years I courted you, all the years I told you that I love you, held your hand and whispered sweet words to you– all of it for this moment._

“Donghyuckah,“ Mark says, voice still soft enough to pass as a whisper. “Let go of the dagger you’re hiding behind your back or I’ll shoot.“

He watches the boy shake in anger, but he obeys, hands empty when he lifts them for Mark to see.

“Get up,“ Mark tells him next, his own body rising effortlessly to his feet, gun never pointing from Donghyuck’s face. “I came to take you with me. Didn’t I promise I’d come to get you one day, sweetheart?” 

He laughs when Donghyuck sobs again, this time for real, a sound full of pain. It’s not that Mark particularly enjoys hurting him, he _does_ love him after all, but seeing his words hit where it matters most to leave his opponent disarmed, satisfies him and fills him with delight. 

“Say bye to your flowers,” he tells the weeping boy, gun nudging against Donghyuck’s chin as if in a gentle caress. “You’re not coming back here ever again.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/abcdefghiluvyou) l [ cc ](https://curiouscat.qa/abcdefghiluvyou)
> 
> Feel free to follow this Au on twitter (it's a bit further ahead than here story-wise) for aesthetics and vibes 🌸
> 
> Ah one more thing, while this AU kinda only skirts around serious themes such as invasion, slavery, freedom and rights being taken from an entire humanoid race, there is no sugarcoating of what is happening and it's also not romanticized. Mark Lee (and his entire race) is a villain in this version of the AU. He has his reasons not to think too much about what he does and he honestly doesn't get why Donghyuck is so upset AND WE'LL GET TO THAT, BUT nevertheless!!! He and his entire race are bad. What they are doing is bad and they've got a thing or two coming for them, just saying c: 🌸
> 
> stay cute, see you all <3


	2. Chapter 2

New chapter, new fic art, this time drawn by the super talented [confusednctzen](https://twitter.com/confusednctzen) on twitter

_Donghyuck praying in his flower temple_ 🌿

• You can find the original tweet with the fanart [(here)](https://twitter.com/confusednctzen/status/1351644426280595456) 🌸

* * *

“I’m not going with you.”

Mark sighs, gun digging into Donghyuck’s back. He doesn’t say anything, just nudges the boy to turn around and face the flowerbed altar of Calla’s five deities. 

He risks it, because Donghyuck is angry and distracted and confused, and switches his gun setting to destruction, a pleased smile widening his lips when he shoots at the altar, all the beautiful flowers in their majestic full bloom crumbling to ash in less than a second. 

Donghyuck screams - first from the shock of a shoot going off close enough to his person that he probably felt the heat of it as it passed him, and then from having to watch his gods turning to dust in front of his eyes. 

“There,” Mark says, thumb swiping up to set his gun back to stun in case Donghyuck tries something stupid. 

He doesn’t want to kill him, not if he can help it, but knocking him out is no fun either, so Mark contemplates for a second, then takes one of his hands off his gun to grab Donghyuck by the hem of his robes. The half translucent veil feels as soft as silk in his hands, catching on the rough calluses of his fingers. “I killed them for you. Now there’s no reason to stay here anymore, hmm?”

Donghyuck doesn’t leash out as expected, but his whole body shudders in... shock? Anger? Hatred? Mark honestly isn’t too sure, but his grip on the boy tightens. 

“To hell with you, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck forces out hoarsely, voice choked up and hands balled to fists. 

His words only widen the smile on Mark’s face into a smirk, the cockiness of it slipping into his words as he laughs and says, “Not _my_ gods, sweetheart.” 

Donghyuck shudders at that, definitely in anger, Mark notes, but he doesn’t say another word, just breathes in and out heavily, trying to stay calm. Mark counts four inhales and three exhales before the boy moves to turn around slowly. 

Instantly, Mark whips back his hand to his gun, body tensing to react — but nothing happens. Donghyuck just halfway turns around, and when his eyes meet Mark’s they’re filled with heartbreak, cheeks wet with tears. 

For a second, Mark’s chest tightens. Then years of training and experience kick in and push any other feeling than cold alertness from his system. 

Donghyuck must see the change of emotions on his face, because his eyes flutter shut the moment Mark’s harden, more tears sliding down his cheeks to drip on the temple ground. 

Mark knows what this is, has seen this tactical move play out in recordings before— has even seen it happen around him among his dating officers in his fleet ...but the force of Donghyuck’s tragic beauty and the heaviness of his next words still prompt a sudden turmoil to start twisting and turning inside his chest. 

Only for a second, though, because Mark is the Federation’s Battle Commander, unbreakable - including his heart, until he takes off his uniform and allows other people in again. 

“I… I loved you—“ Donghyuck whispers, eyes still shut, tears still falling down his face. 

“Of course you did,” Mark says softly after a moment of silence. “I was the nicest, the sweetest, the most charming, wasn’t I?”

He smiles at Donghyuck, genuinely this time, meaning every word, and even finds it in himself not to leash out when Donghyuck sobs and then, unpredictable as he is, spits him right in the face. 

Mark feels the saliva roll down his cheeks at the same pace a tear slides down Donghyuck’s. 

“I will never forgive you,” the boy hisses, voice breaking as his small body shakes so much that it’s hard to get his words out. 

“That’s okay,” Mark replies. “I don’t want your forgiveness. You can hate me, I don’t care.”

The lie only hurts a little, but Mark tightens his hand on his gun as he reaches out for Donghyuck with his other, smile back on his lips as he cups the boy’s cheek and brushes away some of the last tears. 

Donghyuck let’s him, well aware that he has no choice but to allow it. 

“From now on you’re mine,” Mark tells him softly, gun resting under Donghyuck’s chin to lift the boy’s face up. “I’d rather have you hate me than forgive me. I like my pets feisty after all.”

His words have the desired effect, the hatred in Donghyuck’s eyes flashing back in an intensity that raises Mark’s caution immediately. He enjoys this, though, the fire in Donghyuck much more pleasing to him than his tragic heartbreak. 

_“I’ll kill you,_ ” Donghyuck whispers. 

“You can try,” Mark laughs, fingers on Donghyuck’s cheek tightening to pinch the supple flesh. “But you loved me for years. Your heart is mine, I made sure of that. That’s why your gods were too weak to protect you. Because The Sacred Heart of Calla was mine all this time. And it beat for _me_ instead of your gods.”

Donghyuck breaks down in suffocated sobs at his words, new tears sliding down his cheeks so fast that Mark can’t wipe them away anymore. 

He leans in when Donghyuck squeezes his eyes shut, voice lowered to a whisper when he tells him intimately, delicately, directly into his ear, 

“You worshipped _me_ in their place. And you don’t have what it takes to kill a god.”

He leans back again, watches his words settle inside of Donghyuck where they will shame and humble him for the rest of his life, Mark knows. 

He’s pleased with this, enough to reach out again and wipe the tears from Donghyuck’s face once more, absolutely unbothered when the boy's face immediately gets wet again. 

“Time to go,” he tells him sweetly, something nice spreading in his chest when Donghyuck wordlessly obeys. He lets the boy pass him to walk in front of him, pleased when Donghyuck makes no attempt on his life on their way out of the temple. 

_Improvement_ , Mark thinks, but he keeps his gun aimed at Donghyuck’s back, not trusting him at all. There might be no dagger on him anymore, and he’s definitely in a vulnerable state of mind — but Donghyuck is still dangerous, even if it’s more to himself than to Mark. 

But to Mark’s surprise nothing happens. Donghyuck keeps quiet on their way through the 23rd ring, not a single struggle as Mark leads him to the transport ship. 

He sits pale and motionless where Mark locks him in, small body looking frail and delicate, like a flower in the wind, uprooted and lost. 

Mark smiles at the comparison, startling the shuttle pilot who probably never saw his face look like that before. 

It doesn’t matter, not when he finally owns what he wanted to call his for so long. 

Mark is still smiling when the pilot gets over his initial shock and starts the engines. The flight to their ship takes less than ten minutes, but Mark can’t wait to take Donghyuck to his quarters and lock him away from the world, his pretty little flower all to himself. 

-  
  


Donghyuck keeps quiet, not even reacting when Mark speaks to him directly, until they reach the ship and leave the transporter on the hangar deck. 

Mark doesn’t really care, the silence actually welcome to him, because the flight deck is unusually loud, grating on his nerves. 

He leaves Donghyuck’s side to lead them faster to the gates to the ship’s upper decks, only motions at two soldiers to take his place by Donghyuck’s side, eager to leave the noise behind and reach the quiet of his commandeering deck. 

Donghyuck is clumsily stumbling along, but Mark has no eyes for him at the moment, too busy nodding at his crew that starts shouting and clapping to congratulate him for the successful mission. 

They jump out of his way and look at him with worship in their eyes, and any other day Mark would slow down and take his time- maybe even stand in the middle of the crowd to celebrate with them — but today all of them only make him grit his teeth in irritation. 

In all honesty, the invasion of Calla isn’t worth celebrating themselves smugly like this, because it was so pathetically easy to finish the mission, almost a joke to a fleet as skilled and ruthless as them. 

There’s not a single casualty in his troops, even though he didn’t plan a detailed strategy for once. So really, he doesn’t know what exactly all of them are shouting so excitedly for. 

Mark barely keeps his frustration from showing on his face as he makes his way through his soldiers, mind wandering off as he loses himself in his dismissive thoughts. 

That’s why he doesn’t see Donghyuck freeze midway through the crowd and only hears him scream when he’s a good few steps ahead already. By the time Mark turns back in alarm, Donghyuck is struggling in the hold of the two soldiers left and right from him, desperately trying to break free. 

Mark stares at him with narrowed eyes for a split second before he glances across the hangar and sees what’s distressing him. 

While they were crossing the hall, other transport ships landed and discharged their cargo, masses of scared and crying Calladians stumbling out and into the hanger, quickly filling it with their loud sobbing. It explains the unusual noise level and Donghyuck’s distress, too, because he must have noticed that his people are pushed and herded into a different direction than him. 

Mark sighs, one hand coming up to rub his face, vein on his temple pulsing, but he pushes his impatience down, bans his irritation from slipping into his voice as he reaches for Donghyuck.

“You’ll spend your journey to Earth somewhere else than them,” he says, then motions at the two soldiers to let go of the boy, his own hand gripping Donghyuck’s chin to force him to look up at him. 

“Don’t spit at me,” Mark warns, fingers digging into the bones of Donghyuck’s jaw until the boy whimpers and nods.

Mark lets go, pleased when Donghyuck keeps his eyes on him. There are fresh tears sliding down the boy’s cheeks, but Donghyuck looks more angry now, less scared and lost. 

_Good_ , Mark thinks. He has no time for Donghyuck’s fear and trauma - though, admittedly the boy has every right to feel like that, but even so Mark can’t find it in himself to feel any kind of compassion. He did all he could to protect Donghyuck in a situation that was out of his hands, and even though that’s hard to understand for Donghyuck, he supposes, he can’t have the boy stuck in sadness and fear right now. 

Anger is better, keeps him moving instead of breaking down, and Mark is very much for leaving the hanger deck behind, nearing the end of his patience with every second the cries of the Calladians get louder. 

“Lets go. You must be freezing in those veils...” he says, eyes roaming over Donghyuck’s small body, taking in the way The Heart of Calla is barely clothed, not even shoes or socks on his feet. 

It makes sense given his religion and all that _connecting to the earth and nature_ bullshit, but it’s highly impractical here on the flagship in the middle of space, and the way Donghyuck’s toes are turning blue is concerning. 

Even so, Mark’s throat runs dry when he takes in the way Donghyuck’s robes completely slipped off his torso after his attempt to struggle out of his escort’s hold. Bare skin, flawless and soft and golden lies open for Mark’s eyes to devour, and for a second he really gets lost in the sight, only pulls himself together when Donghyuck shivers pitifully.

Before Mark can even open his mouth to bark out an order for something to wrap the boy in, a soft blanket is pressed into his side, a cheerful laugh making it unnecessary to turn around and check who approached him. 

“Jaemin,” Mark greets, but he unfolds the thick blanket and hangs it around Donghyuck’s shoulders instead of turning around to look at his First Officer. Donghyuck’s face, the way it’s absolutely void of color as he stares at something behind Mark, nothing but despair in his eyes, tells Mark everything he needs to know anyway. 

Renjun must be in Jaemin’s custody, no doubt visibly chained already, and, judging by the lack of shouts and swears, in a similar state of shock as Donghyuck is right now. Mark glances behind and sure enough sees Renjun’s small form curled intimidated and lost behind Jaemin’s back, pale hands clutching the hem of Jaemin’s uniform jacket that hangs huge and heavy from around his narrow shoulders. Unlike Donghyuck, who walks relatively free, Renjun is already collared and cuffed and connected by a chain to Jaemin. 

Mark only lets his eyes rest on Renjun for a second longer before he leans down into Donghyuck’s personal space and secures the blanket around him, making sure the boy grabs the edges in his hands before he murmurs directly into his ear, “I’ll let you stay with Renjun if you’re good and do as I tell you.”

Donghyuck’s breath hitches, but the despair in his eyes gives way to helplessness, the boy’s eyes watery as he stares at Mark and clings to his words. 

“Where...” he stutters out, fingers cramping around the blanket in his hands when his teeth start to chatter and make it difficult to say more. It’s okay, though, Mark knows what he wants to know. 

“There’s no way a possession of mine spends even a second in the dirty cargo boxes shipping the rest of your kind to Earth. You’ll be my pretty little flower and stay quiet and ready in my quarters for me, won’t you?”

Donghyuck flinches at the familiar endearment, but his eyes dart behind Mark to Renjun, and whatever it is that he sees there makes him nod quickly, fingers shaking now. 

“Ready for what...” he asks, though, voice barely above a whisper. 

The question catches Mark off guard, because Donghyuck sounds genuinely lost, and the answer to what Mark just crudely suggested is ...it should be obvious. But maybe not to Donghyuck, Mark realizes, who knows nothing other than being treasured and loved by him. Donghyuck would never expect something cruel and heartless from him, because Mark never treated him like that before. 

What would someone like Donghyuck, who grew up so sheltered and was always treated so preciously, know about the things that are so simple and clear to Mark. What would he know about all the evil of Mark’s kind? 

For the first time since the start of the mission Mark doesn’t find words to reply. Images of all the vile things he just implied flash through his mind, but when he stares at Donghyuck’s pale face, his usual nonchalance towards these things is gone. 

Instead, he feels an unexpected pang in his chest at the thought of Donghyuck, who only knows gentleness, and who was only ever given sweet words full of adoration while Mark held him in his arms, crying in misery and pain because of something he does to him. 

Mark swallows and balls his hands to fist, irritation rising up fast as he can’t make sense of what’s going on with him. His cruelty is a well known part of him, the reason why he’s the best, why he’s at the top, the Battle Commander of the Federation’s elite fleet. 

And yet he can’t find it in himself to let any of it leak into his voice and touch when he bends down again, caresses Donghyuck’s pale cheeks with his hands and tells him quietly,

“Anything."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/abcdefghiluvyou) l [ cc ](https://curiouscat.qa/abcdefghiluvyou)
> 
> ...i kinda forgot to update this au on ao3, i'm sorry 🙈
> 
> also i wanted to use this update to tell you something.  
> when it comes to this fic, please do comment. I know most people  
> have already read this fic on twitter, but the thing is this: a lot of effort  
> and love is poured into this AU, and while i can see that it's popular on  
> twitter, this AU gets ZERO comments (because that's the nature of twitter).  
> that means ZERO feedback or motivation or just... plain recognition to put  
> it crudely, and I honestly... need that too every now and then 🌷


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